Sonnet
by Kamouraskan
Summary: A reunion between our heroes that comes just a bit later than planned. Humour, romance, reincarnation a new perspective on the works of another well-known bard.


**Disclaimer:** Another challenge from MyWarrior, to try to write a variation on her "The Single Most Important Thing".

Madness, right?

But my thanks to Extra ,thenorm, and Cath for suggestions and corrections. If this doesn't work, it's not their fault. The characters at last check, are owned by RenPic, MCA, and they don't know what I've been up to with them.

**Sex:** If two women in love upsets you, well, to be polite, grow up, or get out.

**Violence:** A few cracked ribs, nothing major.

Special thanks to Merwolf, who after I had already written this piece, graciously allowed me to steal items from her wonderful series of stories, A Journey of Soulmates.

**Sonnet **** by Kamouraskan**

The chair was definitely wedged in there now, she thought. Caught between the smoke and the chaos of the New York street, and the quiet dark unknown of the shop within, the senior citizen was furious. The hub of the wheel was firmly caught in the door frame. The small woman tried twisting her body in the chair but it wouldn't budge. 'One lousy inch larger, that's all it had to be.' Another twist and jerk...finally, she was inside the store. She called to the shadow behind the counter.

"Damn it, did you like watching me? Why don't you have the door widened? D'you ever hear about wheelchair access?"

The shopkeeper hadn't moved from behind her altar. "One inch, one foot, it's all the same in widening a door. Ya need a new frame, new door, then a ramp, Ya rebrick the exterior, comes to maybe seven thousand bucks. Just so one customer a year doesn't get stuck? Tell me another one." The voice was clearly that of an older woman, bitter and bored.

"There are subsidies." The woman in the chair carefully straightened her pantsuit.

"Yeah. Half. And that's after you do the job. And then if they send it."

The customer rolled up to the counter, cursing herself for again racking up her electric chair the day before, and tried to evaluate the woman in the shadow.

"You might find yourself needing that extra inch yourself, someday."

"Well, when that happens..." _'Probably some damned activist for the disabled,' _thought the owner. Looked the type. Mid 60's, white hair, but with a fire still burning behind the green eyes. The shopkeeper stared down at the little woman. "You the one who placed the ad?"

The woman in the chair had closed her eyes while listening to the voice, and then shook her head. "Not so fast. I put a lot of effort into getting down here, so now I get to relax."

"You said in your ad, that you had a specific item to sell." _'Damn. Just another one of those old biddies who needs to talk...'_

The woman in the chair cocked her head. "I described it. I got it. You want it. It's a fairly simple transaction. It's just that it took me some time, a very long time to get here, and I would like a moment to...savour the experience."

"Could you savour quickly?"

"Hey! You did say it wasn't a cash deal? So I'm going to spend some time looking at your wares, all right?"

The shopkeeper gestured towards the walls. As the woman's eyes gradually adapted to the dark room, the incredible array of objects became clearer. Every square foot of the shop seemed to be covered in masks and weapons, some in cases, others mounted to the walls.

"Very impressive. You must have done a great deal of traveling...?"

The older woman gave a quick snort.

"You don't recognise me, do you?"

There was only a noncommittalshrug from the shop keeper.

"Isn't that so sad? I spent so much of my life trying to get my face on just about anything and everything." The woman in the chair gave a short self-mocking laugh. "But I guess you weren't interested in fan magazines, didn't go to the movies, huh?"

"Traveled pretty much all my life, finding these...." Another gesture. " So have you savoured enough yet?"

"No. I'm enjoying myself. It's like...did you ever get lost when you were a child, and then have that wonderful feeling when you were found?"

The older woman yawned. "I spent most of my life enjoying getting lost."

"Some one might say that you were looking for something."

The shopkeeper tried to get back on track. "Could you at least tell me the provenance of the item?"

The woman in the chair noticed a series of quarterstaffs and rolled herself towards them. "Family heirloom, I guess you'd say."

"Someone in the family was a archeologist, or a tomb raider?" The owner continued to press.

Ignoring her, the customer was examining the Amazon masks when a battered volume caught her eye. It seemed to be the only book in the store. She reached for it. 'Oh Gods. It's the Sonnets!', she thought. And she moved her fist to her lips to stop them from trembling.

"That's not for sale," was called out.

"And why would I want it?" the woman in the wheelchair yelled back. But the shopkeeper had noticed that her eyes had filled for a moment upon identifying the thin volume. The smaller woman held the book almost tenderly, and said. "It seems to have traveled a long ways. And it's hardly a first edition. Did it go with you on your excursions?"

The shopkeeper's expression didn't change, but she was thinking, '_What was with this woman? How could she tell...?_' When no response was forthcoming, the other didn't ask again.

"You know," and the woman spun the chair around with ease. "Many scholars believe that a woman wrote much of the work attributed to William Shakespeare."

'_What did that have to do with the price of fish?' _the shopkeeper sighed_._ "Yeah, yeah. Or Christopher Marlowe or Francis Bacon."

"That poor wild boy? And Sir Francis, he could barely write his own name. Still; a wonderful, challenging man... But Will did write all of King Lear. Wonderful piece of theater."

"Yeah, King Lear. I heard few critics liked it. Think it did fairly well in the smaller theatres." The shopkeeper sighed again. Her disappointment was easily read; the woman was clearly a loon and the sought after prize was probably imaginary. "Knew him well, did you?" But the bright green eyes seemed pretty clear, and even shining with mischief.

"Well, that wouldn't be possible, would it?"

Tired of these games, the owner decided to finish this up. "Look, if you have the item, I'd like to see it. Now."

"Rush, rush..." The woman in the chair protested. But she reached to her bag and pulled out an ornate case. The shopkeeper's eyes widened. The box was of an intricate jeweled design, and even at this distance she could see it could be worth any of the items in the shop alone.

Seeing the interest, the woman in the chair stopped. "Do you mind if I tell you the story behind it?"

Licking her lips in anticipation the shopkeeper merely nodded.

"Well, it only passes to the family member who knows a certain phrase..."

"I don't understand. Where did it come from originally?"

"Originally? It's always been worn by..."

"Lady, if it's what you claim it is, it's over 2,000 years old. It hasn't been always worn by your family. Where did it come from originally? Who found it?"

"I'm trying to tell you. It has always been worn…"

"Ma'am, the chain alone would have worn out a millennium ago."

"Oh, the chain is periodically melted and reforged, the present one is from the 17th century. But it's still the same chain in my heart."

The shopkeeper just shook her head. "I'm happy for you. May I see?"

Carefully the box was laid on the counter and opened. To the shopkeeper's amazement, it appeared to be genuine. The crystal caught the glow of the examination light as she brought it closer. She was further astonished when a second case was brought out, laid beside its twin and opened with a near duplicate nestled inside. "You never said there were two!"

"I was afraid, you would get upset."

"Upset? Why would I get upset? Do they..."

"Yes, they link." And both held their breath as the shaking hands picked up the relic and moved the two halves together.

"I've never even heard of a matching pair of Joining necklaces surviving... What are you asking for it?"

"I want you to take the challenge." The woman in the chair held herself still.

"What?"

"As I was saying. After the owner dies, the necklaces are kept, well, most recently by our lawyers, who are instructed to give them to the family member who responds with the correct phrase. If you can get it right, it's yours."

The older woman, felt a tinge of regret for this addled cripple, but it passed in her strange, almost obsessive desire to possess one of these items in front of her. "What do I have to do?"

"You take it into your hands..."

"Ma'am, I can't take a 2,000 year old piece of history into my hands."

"You take it into your hands," she repeated sternly. "And I will prompt you." Clumsily, the owner reached in and took the precious stone and chain into her hands, and looked up expectantly.

The woman in the chair seemed to stop breathing as she looked directly into the older woman's blue eyes.

"Now I say, Is This Yours?"

An automatic 'yes', was caught in her throat, and the world spun, as she stared. She seemed to stand just a little taller, as she looked at the now familiar piece of her heart in her hands. Suddenly hoarse, she whispered, "No, this one is Gabrielle's."

And her world continued to spin as she looked down at the now crying woman in the chair, and said "Gabrielle?"

Part 2

_-but now that I know her worth, and that we so long have slept together, rose at the same instant, learned, played and eat together, I cannot live without her company... _

_- Celia of Rosalind in As You Like It_

"Gabrielle?" And there it finally was. That crooked smile, the eyes filled with tears and love, The Bard just tried to bask in it for the brief moment she knew she had. Because then...

"Gabrielle."

Eyes cast down. "Yes, Xena?"

"You're just a little....LATE!" There was no anger, but definitely exasperation.

And once again she was that little girl from Potadeia.

"Xena! It wasn't my fault. Really! Alice, your niece..."

"Yeeeess..."

"She buried you with the necklace..." Seeing the widening of those beloved blue eyes, she hastily added "She loved you, and she must have thought, well, she knew how important the necklace was to you, and instead of giving it to the lawyer like she promised, well ...anyways, when you were reborn this time, and your parents died, and all of you were adopted ,the church with the records burned and the county records were sealed..." It came out in a rush. How could she explain how long and how hard she had searched? How she had almost been arrested for bribing an official to open the court documents... She finished, embarrassed, "I tried..?"

But already her warrior had moved and was kneeling beside her. Holding her with those arms and those eyes. Both still so strong and filled with compassion.

"I know. I know you did."

And it was all right.

Xena would have stayed just like that for ever, and she didn't want to waste a moment with her Bard arguing but...fifty years?

"Gabrielle? Why didn't you advertise your necklace sooner?"

"I only just figured it out and got it." She hung her head.

"You mean...?" She withdrew one hand, tapping her chin with the fist. "Gabrielle. You opened my coffin...again?"

The head snapped up quickly. "You make it sound like it's some sort of habit."

"Well..."Gabrielle gave the warrior her version of the LOOK.

"So, let me get this straight. You were forced to became a world famous actress and plaster your face everywhere, thinking I might see you?" The teasing tone infuriated her. "Quite the hardship."

"Listen, you dumb warrior, I sold my story to tabloids for you. Damn it..." She almost wailed, "I did television!"

"Poor Baby."

"And all that time you were probably in the Congo, or camping by the side of the Amazon... Looking for this..." She gingerly passed over the other necklace.

"That wasn't what I was looking for." And she pulled Gabrielle up and held her, and there was a deep sigh from both women that said more than any of their words. The white head rested on the older woman's shoulder. They were content just like that for a long moment.

Breathing in that familiar scent, Gabrielle mumbled "I'm just so glad you had the sonnets. I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that they were..."

"Written for me? No, I know I dreamed that, that there might be someone, who felt..."

"My Dark Lady," Gabrielle muttered into her warrior's warmth, and the embrace was tightened.

"Do you still have a copy of your originals? Before Will edited them and added his own?"

"They were all still for you. He had that tremendous crush, you remember."

"Yes, but he kept changing everything. Look what he did to the ending of 'As You Like It.'"

"Xena, he was a genius. He was almost as important to writing my poems as you were. And look at the way he kept the outsider insecurities of the woman warrior by changing her into a Moor. That was brilliant."

The warrior in question tightened her jaw. "Do NOT bring up Othello. I come back after a hard campaign, and act just a LITTLE bit jealous, and I'm portrayed for all time as a murderer of sweet, loyal, INNOCENT Desdemona."

Gabrielle giggled. "Well, perhaps I laid it on a bit too thick, but it kept you in line for two centuries."

"Humph."

"It's a reminder though. That time we were together right away. I did my best writing,, you went roaming and fighting with Drake and Raleigh... but this time...we've wasted..."

"Wasted? Gabrielle, I know you. You had all that money. What did you do with it?"

"I invested some in Beta video players..."

"Oh Gods..."

"It was the better system!"

"But what else?"

"Well, there are the women's shelters, and the lobby groups, and funds for legal assistance..."

"For people who can't defend themselves..."

"Of course! Did you know that in the province of Quebec you're only eligible for Legal Aid if you earn under $8,000 and that's in Canadian? And poverty is anything under $15,000!" Xena closed her eyes, listening happily to the outraged voice.  
"No I didn't, sweetheart, but I'm so glad that you do." And she held her tighter. 'Gods, I love you, woman.'

"So where are your medals?"

Xena stiffened. 'I haven't got any medals..."

"Oh come on, now. I know you, too. There's no way you didn't fight the Nazi's."

The warrior dropped her eyes. "They were... taken away. When they discovered..."

"That you were a woman? How dare they? How could you let them!" If the bard had seemed outraged before...

"Gabrielle. I wasn't there for medals."

How long they might have stood there wouldn't be known, because the momentary peace the lovers had enjoyed was shattered first by a buzzing of the bell. Then the shop door crashed in.

Three young thugs swarmed in, slamming the door behind them. They were unmasked, nervous and armed. One had a gun, the others knives.

Xena blinked once and looked to Gabrielle with concern but saw only anticipation and a smile that matched her own.

'Oh Oh.'

"I'm assuming that we are prepared for this sort of thing?" Was all she asked.

Their conversation was interrupted by the boy in the centre. "Shut up bitch! Both of you. Raise your hands and get out here." He gestured with his gun, panting slightly.

Xena hesitated for a moment thinking 'she's in a wheel chair.' And then realized 'but it's Gabrielle in a wheelchair.' So she gave their old hand signal, indicating that Xena would take the two in the middle, Gabrielle the one on the end. Simulating fear, she hobbled forward and threw a wad of bills to the centre of the room, pleading "Take it. Take it all. Just please, don't hurt us." A glance confirmed that the money had aligned them properly and the sound of her voice covered the release of the iron grate suspended in the ceiling.

Weighing over 500 pounds, the grate swung swiftly down on its hinge, nearly lifting the two would be robbers off their feet, sending them flying across the room, crashing against the wall, where they lay stunned. Simultaneously, Gabrielle flicked her satchel out by its strap, where it seemed to just graze the chin of the distracted third boy, who instantly collapsed like he'd been struck by lightning.

Xena stared at him. "What have you got in that purse?"

Gabrielle looked surprised. "The usual things. Keepsakes, mementos. I always try to replace certain things. That quartz the colour of your eyes, the piece of amber you gave me when we were swimming..."

"Rocks. Your purse is full of rocks, Gabrielle."

"Souvenirs."

"Right. Do you want to deal with these jerks?"

"Got rope?"

"Maybe duct tape."

"Good enough."

The tape was found, and there was a companionable silence as they worked.

"That one's conscious." One of the thugs struggled to rise and Gabrielle reached over to the wall and grabbed a quarter staff , wheeled over and laid the tip on his chest.

"Now," she said in a gentle, motherly tone. "You have a few broken ribs. Already they may be scraping different internal organs like your liver or your kidneys. So if you're silly enough to move around now, you'll be doing more than just peeing blood for a few days... also, I would have to hit you on the head . Hard. Now, you don't want that now, do you? So, just lie still. That's a good boy."

Xena snickered. "You always were better at the sensitive chats."

There was a popping sound of a joint as the warrior stooped over to tape the hands of her second victim.

"Gabrielle...when you thought I had the necklace...and I didn't come for you....did you think...?"

Gabrielle blushed and was silent for a moment. "Well, it did occur to me, that maybe, after all this time, you could have gotten...well...bored."

Xena tossed the tape over to Gabrielle who caught it neatly. The older woman began to laugh.

"What?"

"Bored? Gabrielle, I have had this store for two years. I've never been robbed in the daytime. And you were here for what, 15 minutes?"

"Now don't start that again, this is not my fault..." She continued wrapping her victim. "But, Xena, are you really attached to this place...?."

"Why...?"

"Well, I have this cabin....on the northern tip of Vancouver Island, in British Columbia?"

"Um hmm..."

"And there's a tribe called the Haida, they've sort of adopted me..."

Xena rolled her eyes. "of course."

"And there's fresh water, and all season hunting, and stars... the stars at night Xena..."

"Gabrielle, has it occurred to you that I am 74 years old?"

"Well, if you're worried about roughing it, the cabin cost around two mill, and there's a landing strip for my Cesna...."

"I will never forget the day when you first tried to explain compound interest to me..." Xena mused.

"...And they make sleeping bags with heat coils, and tents that come with all the amenities and clear see through roofs...." Gabrielle waited, holding her breath. The short pause seemed to drag on.

"Are there a really a lot of stars?"

Gabrielle broke into a huge grin. "Yes, yes, yes! And Northern lights, Xena, so beautiful... I've been waiting so long to show you..."

"It must be cold..."

"It was...sometimes, but now! There's electricity, of course, but, Gods," her eyes were sparkling " I can't wait to build the most gorgeous fire in the main fireplace!" Gabrielle tried to quell her enthusiasm for just a moment. "But it is a little, well, out of the way. I expected you'd be more worried about...."

"The Greater Good? Gabrielle. That's never been a problem. You and me together? We could be stuck on an iceflow and someone needing help would find us." The warrior caught the familiar look in her partner's eyes, and smiled in the comfort of seeing it. But something still had to be dealt with. She stood up and dragged the last punk by his heels over to his companions.

"Gabrielle, you didn't wait...for me... You had..."

"Three." No hesitation.

"Three? You're talking...Husbands?" She dropped the legs, and slowly straightened up.

"Xena... I loved them all, but I would have had a bag packed and ready five minutes after you showed up."

"Why?"

"Why? Damn it Xena, I have always lived for this moment. You, and me, together."

"But look at me!"

Gabrielle pulled herself out of the chair, using her staff as a support, and took the hand of the love of her lives. She looked into the eyes of the other half of her soul, knowing what she would see.

"There's a song I heard in Canada, by a folk singer named Stan Rogers....one of his songs is about an middle aged farm wife who looks into the mirror and sees all the aging lines." She stopped and tried to sing.

_So this is beauties finish. Like Rodin's Belle Haumiere_

_The pretty maid entrapped within the Ranchwife's toil and care..._

She swallowed, and explained. "But in the end she realizes that the local dance is coming up, and she'll be there with her husband, her long time love...

_"She'll look up in that weathered face, that loves her's line for _line

_And see that maiden shining in his eyes..._

The tears were flowing freely now. "You see, Xena, you're the one who will always see that maiden... and I , I always see my Warrior..."

Xena stood and reached for her again and just whispered "Always. As first you were...." She took a breath, and closed her eyes, her chin resting on Gabrielle's hair. Her arms wrapped around the smaller woman from behind. And as they enjoyed that familiar pose the bard recited almost to herself, "my Home...of Love. Like she that travels...I return again." She tilted her head upwards. 'By the Gods, do you know how much I've missed you? If you hadn't been here...'And heard the soft answer to her thoughts...

"Shhhh. It's all right now, it's all right."

It was only when they noticed the reflection of a police flasher on the windows that they reluctantly separated, and a sense of urgency infected the couple. As Xena escorted the bard back to her chair, she asked, "So, do we have children, and grandchildren?"

Now Gabrielle's grin was exactly as she remembered. "Oh yeah. But I get to have you alone for a while first. Then you can play Super Grandma all you want."

"Family..." The aged orphan closed her eyes.

"Yup." The Bard agreed happily. "But Xe... what about the store, all this stuff?"

The warrior gave her home for two years a glance. "Well, can't say that I could be packed in five minutes, and we do have to talk to the police, but we can afford movers, right? and two million did buy some space...?"

Gabrielle looked about at the hundreds of killing blades, African deities, and deadly weapons of war. "We do have a rec room."

Xena grabbed a mace from the wall, swinging it casually as she approached the side of the chair. "Gabrielle, do you have another ..."

"Oh yes. This is just a loaner while my electric one is being repaired. And I can walk. A bit."

"No need." She smashed the hub of the wheel flat with the mace. "Your electric one come with extras? Like rocket launchers?"

"Well," Gabrielle smiled ingenuously, "not exactly rockets..."

Another crash and the right side was crushed in as well. Xena opened the door, and standing behind her bard took the handles of the chair. It slid though the doorway with room to spare.

"Wait a minute...." Xena went over picked up the boxes from the counter, and formally presented a case to Gabrielle. Taking her own necklace, she stood behind Gabrielle, draped it over the bard's shoulder, and carefully closed the catch, bending over to gently kiss the weathered neck just below the clasp. Then facing away, she slowly lowered herself and stood still while her bard painstakingly did the same. She turned, still in a crouch and stared, lost for a moment in the eyes of her wife; and they both smiled, and Gabrielle reached out to tenderly tuck the chain under the collar. Xena took the hand and held it against her own cheek, trying to freeze the moment in her mind, before rising and resuming her place behind the chair.

A thought occurred to her. "Oh, Gabrielle? Dare I ask what happened to your other chair?" She gave one last look about the shop, another check on the condition of the bound punks.

"Xena, it was just the strangest thing..."

The warrior just rolled her eyes. "Uh huh...." and the door closed behind them.

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May_

_And summer's lease hath all too short a date_

_But thy eternal summer shall not fade... _

Sonnet 18


End file.
